


Jackson Getting What He Deserves

by ira_fae



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Bottom Jackson Whittemore, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Hair-pulling, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Past Danny Mahealani/Jackson Whittemore, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ira_fae/pseuds/ira_fae
Summary: Derek is tired of Jackson's shit so he puts the beta in his place. Which is under Derek.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 126





	Jackson Getting What He Deserves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmawy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmawy/gifts).



> this is absolute filth, just for the sake of filth

See, the thing is that Jackson has never been to Derek’s loft. There was never a  _ reason. _ Despite his initial yearning to be part of the supernatural world Jackson tried to distance himself as much as he could after the whole, you know, being used as part of some psycho’s revenge plot. There was the whole moving to London thing, but that seemed like such an exhausting option. So, instead, he asked his Alpha (he’ll kill God when he meets him for making Derek  _ fucking  _ Hale the man in charge of Jackson supernaturally) if he could not be involved in the whole werewolves and bullshit thing. 

Derek was none too pleased about this but McCall, of all fucking people, convinced Derek to let Jackson be involved minimally. They compromised. Jackson had to come to a monthly pack meeting (he is going to make God suffer first) and pretend to be interested, but other than that he was free to live his life as normal. Derek explained the whole ‘falling to omega’ thing to Jackson. It’s the only reason he agreed to this whole arrangement. That and Derek can get sort of  _ murder-scary _ when things don’t go his way. 

Pack meetings always happened out on the preserve. Even in the winter, much to Jackson’s dismay. The werewolves of the pack were all, always,  _ fine _ with the weather, no matter the temperature. But Jackson, who is a Kanima, which is a supernatural  _ lizard, _ did not fucking like the cold. 

Regardless, this meant that Jackson had never gone to Derek’s loft. But he sent Jackson a text, demanding that he come to his apartment, for some Godforsaken reason. Jackson didn’t want to see the fangs, and the sideburns, and the eyes, so he came. 

And now, he’s standing in the hall, outside of Derek’s loft. The door is  _ massive _ and Jackson is already annoyed at the aesthetic of the place. He prefers sleek modernism. White walls, clean lines, streamlined innovation. Whereas Derek apparently prefers industrialism. The door is clearly one that slides. A fucking sliding door. Jackson huffs out an annoyed breath. 

The behemoth of a door finally slides open and Derek stands there, that brooding mask firmly in place on his face. Jackson raises an eyebrow. Derek rolls his eyes and gestures for Jackson to enter. The ceilings are high and there are wooden beams all over the place. Against the back wall is a large window and Jackson thinks it’s probably the only thing he actually likes about the apartment. There is an honest to God metal, spiral staircase in one corner. And – Jackson really has to try to not wrinkle his nose in disgust – there is a doorway made of brick that looks like someone took a wrecking ball to. And the decor. Not to sound like Lydia, but Derek has zero fucking taste. 

He stops near the middle of the loft when he realizes there are two other people in Derek’s loft. Sitting on the  _ ugliest _ couch Jackson has ever seen are two people he did not want to see today. Stiles Stilinski is curled up with Isaac Lahey and they sure do look comfortable like that. Lahey has an arm slung around Stilinski’ shoulders and Stilinski is resting his head on Lahey’s shoulder.  _ Oh, God, _ Jackson thinks. 

“What do you want, Derek?” He turns to glare at the man. Derek has slid the door closed and is making his way to where Jackson stands. He folds his arms across his chest and looks, well, cross. 

“When I agreed to let you be minimally involved, I was under the impression that you were going to  _ care _ about the rest of your pack. But it has become evident to me that you don’t.” Derek is closer than he normally is, eyes narrowed, expression angrier than usual. Jackson tries not to roll his eyes.  _ Tries. _

“Christ, dude. What do you want from me? I show up to pack meetings just like you asked.” 

There is a little noise from the couch and Jackson turns to glare at Stilinski and Lahey. The two of them look smug for some reason. It puts Jackson on edge. 

“You are physically present at pack meetings, but this,” Derek flicks Jackson’s forehead, “is somewhere else. You don’t listen to a single thing I say. You completely disregard Scott when  _ he _ talks.” 

Jackson snorts derisively, “Why should I care what McCall has to say?” Derek’s nostrils flare and there’s a soft growl from the couch. Jackson steadfastly ignores all things Stilinski and Lahey. 

“Because he is your Second. He deserves the same amount of respect that I do. Not that you show me any respect, to begin with.” 

Jackson scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning away from Derek, “Here we fuckin’ go.” Derek grabs his arm and jerks him back to face him. Jackson lets out a soft noise of surprise.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Jackson,” Derek’s eyes flash red and Jackson instinctively looks down at the floor, “I’ve decided that you need to be taught a little about respect. And I’m even going to give you a choice.” Derek lets go of Jackson’s arm but steps into his space. Jackson can feel the heat radiating off of Derek and – damn it all to hell – it calms Jackson down a little. He runs cold. He has always run cold, even before being a literal lizard. And being around the wolves, especially Derek for that matter, warms him up and eases his nerves. 

“Okay,” he tries to put snark into his reply, but it just doesn’t work. 

“Your first option is to join Scott on his patrols,” Derek says, and Jackson immediately reacts, pulling back, “It would be good for you,” Derek’s tone is patronizing and Jackson sneers at the floor, “to learn how the pack  _ actually works. _ To do something for the pack. You might even realize that you enjoy being part of the pack. But, you have another option.” 

Jackson looks up, not liking the way Derek said that. His face gives off even weirder vibes and Jackson takes a half step back. There’s some sniggering from the couch and Jackson glares at them again. 

“What is it?” he huffs at Derek. He  _ will not _ be running around the forest with goddamn Scott McCall. He might be part of this pack, but he is decidedly  _ not _ a werewolf. 

“I’ll show you your place in this pack,” Derek closes the space between them again and puts his hand on the back of Jackson’s neck. He gasps unwittingly, his heart rate rising. Derek is the one who made his neck so damn sensitive to begin with. 

“What- what do you mean?” Jackson is pissed at himself. Why does he sound like a whiney school girl? Why does Derek  _ do this _ to him? 

No matter how many times Jackson tells himself that Derek is nothing special, that he’s not even that attractive, that he’s just a jackass with some fangs… Derek can rile Jackson up with a sharp look or an intense grip. 

“Oh, c’mon, Jackson. You  _ know _ what I mean. I’ll show you where you belong in the pack like an Alpha should,” Derek is mere inches away from Jackson now, his warmth and scent overpowering. Jackson doesn’t have as strong a sense of smell as the werewolves do, but he can still smell that vaguely spicy scent of arousal. And he  _ does know _ what Derek means. Jackson swallows, eyes flicking over to Stilinski and Lahey. They are practically  _ leering _ at him. He turns back to Derek. 

“Do they-” 

“Yes,” Derek interrupts, “they  _ do _ have to be here. See, Jackson, the thing is that you’re the only one who doesn’t realize where he is on the totem pole. Lahey and Stilinski know. They know where their place is and they flourish in their roles. So, yes, they get to watch me put you in your place,” Derek pauses, licking his lips, “That is… if that’s what you chose.” 

Jackson wants to take a deep breath, but the only thing he smells is the heady scent of Derek’s arousal when he takes air in.

“Well, I’m obviously not running around the woods with McCall like a dog.” Jackson has finally managed to regain some of his snark and a lecherous grin takes over Derek’s face. He tightens his grip on Jackson’s neck. The movement causes a little whimper to escape Jackson’s mouth before he can stop it. His cheeks burn red as he hears Stilinski and Lahey make more noise at this development. 

“Oh, Jackson. You’ve made the right choice,” Derek whispers in his ear. Suddenly, Jackson is being led – or rather, pulled – toward the bed in the room. Is this Derek’s bedroom? Jackson is trying to mentally map out the loft but is abruptly stopped by Derek practically tossing him onto the bed. He grunts on impact. 

“D- Derek…” Jackson wants to make another witty retort but Derek has started to undress him. Shoes, socks, jacket, they all are on the floor in the blink of an eye. Derek pauses to pull his own shirt off and Jackson’s mouth drops open as he watches all those muscles flex. 

“Don’t just lay there,” Derek huffs, “get undressed.” Jackson hurries to comply with the order, fumbling with his own shirt. Despite the circumstances, this is fulfilling many wet dreams (that he refuses to admit to), so Jackson won’t waste the opportunity. 

By the time he’s working on getting his jeans off Derek is naked and that distracts Jackson. Derek rolls his eyes and yanks Jackson’s jeans the rest of the way off, tossing them toward the rest of the clothes on the floor. Part of Jackson wants to protest, wants to yell about how expensive those jeans are, but the other part of him is focused on Derek’s fingers, tugging his briefs down. 

And without ceremony Jackson is naked. Derek doesn’t let his gaze linger, doesn’t seem to want to appreciate Jackson’s body. He grabs Jackson’s hips and flips him onto his stomach, all brute werewolf strength. The bed dips and apparently Derek isn’t done manhandling him. He shoves Jackson around until he’s facing the couch, where Lahey and Stilinski stare him down, grinning salaciously at him. 

Derek pulls Jackson’s legs apart at the knees and settles himself there. Jackson jumps at the sound of something clicking open.  _ Oh, fuck, _ Jackson thinks,  _ there’s really no preamble to this. _

“Derek,” Jackson huffs out, turning to look over his shoulder. Derek is rolling his eyes. 

“I’m going to take care of you, Jackson. Even if you’re a cocky little shit, you’re still my beta.” And Derek grabs Jackson’s ass, gently pulling it apart. “Up on your knees.” He hurries to comply, flushing as Stilinski and Lahey snicker. God, he almost forgot they were there. He lays his cheek down on the bed so he doesn’t have to look at them, squeezing his eyes closed as Derek runs his fingers up and down Jackson’s thighs. Derek gently brushes a hand over Jackson’s balls, causing him to gasp. He lingers there for a moment, caressing softly. But then Derek’s hand is on Jackson’s shaft and he squeezes. 

“Derek!” Jackson snaps. In response, Derek slaps his ass lightly. Jackson gasps, pulling away. Derek tugs him back by the base of his dick. Jackson grits his teeth in frustration. Derek grabs his ass again and spreads his cheeks again, chuckling darkly. Then he’s running his thumb over Jackson’s hole. 

Jackson is no virgin. He’s had plenty of people in bed. Mostly women, if he’s honest, but he’s done some experimenting. Danny had no qualms with sating Jackson’s curiosity about anal sex. Danny had been genuinely surprised though when Jackson had wanted to bottom. The point is that this won’t be the first time he’s ever had something in his ass. 

But Derek is pressing a lubed finger into him gently and Jackson has to bite his tongue to keep himself from making any noise. When he breathes in, trying to calm himself a little, he’s only confronted with the scent of Derek’s arousal. Derek is suddenly leaning over him, mouthing at his neck. Jackson whimpers softly, the sensation sending shivers down his back. He feels a little overwhelmed. Derek’s clearly skilled, two fingers deep now. His other hand is keeping up a constant stream of movement. He runs his fingers over Jackson’s back, then slides it under his chest to pinch his nipples. 

Jackson tries to keep his noises in, not wanting any of them to have the satisfaction of hearing him. But Derek’s fingers are easily sliding in and out of him now, a pace set that is teasing and just on the edge of  _ so good.  _ His other hand has settled on Jackson’s hip, a possessive hold that just does things to Jackson. He turns his face fully into the bed and groans softly. 

“That’s right,” Derek mutters. He crooks his fingers up and Jackson keens at the sensation. “There we go.” Derek slides his fingers out slowly and Jackson turns his face back to the side, trying to get his breathing under control. He’s expecting what comes next so it doesn’t surprise him. Derek’s lining the head of his cock up and pushing in slowly, tantalizingly slow. What does surprised Jackson is Derek wrapping his lubed covered hand around Jackson’s cock and using the same teasing pace to jerk him off. 

Jackson grits his teeth together again, wanting more, but not wanting to say anything. He pushes his hips back ever so slightly, one of Derek’s hands grips his hip tightly, fingers digging in with just the faintest touch of claws, the other, the one around his dick grips almost as tight. Jackson takes the hint and stops moving. 

Jackson feels more and more full as Derek pushes farther in. He focuses on the movement on his dick to help his body relax. And it feels good, everything feels so good. Derek’s hand around his dick is sure and slow and though Jackson feels the stretch, the burn, he realizes that he is enjoying it too. 

But then Derek is flush against him, having rushed the last little bit. Jackson whimpers. 

“Wait… Derek, don’t- don’t  _ move,”  _ Jackson pants. He squeezes his hands in the blanket he’s on, focusing on his breathing. Derek lays himself over Jackson’s back again. He places little kisses up Jackson’s neck, beard scraping as he goes. He stops when his mouth is level with Jackson’s ear. 

“See, Jackson… I care about you. I respect you.  _ This _ is what pack is all about,” Derek whispers. Jackson wants to scoff. Derek’s massive dick up his ass is what pack is all about? He’ll make sure to relay that to McCall the next time he’s prattling on about pack loyalty. “You just tell me when you’re ready.” Derek kisses back down his neck and lifts up, away. Both of his hands are on Jackson’s hips now and,  _ God damn it, _ does he want some friction against his dick. Damn him. 

“Just- God, fucking move.” Jackson snaps. He’s sure that behind him Derek is making some lecherous facial expression. He grunts as he pulls his hips back slowly. He’s not moving at the snail’s pace he started with, but the rhythm he settles into is slow and nowhere near what Jackson was expecting. Or what Jackson wants. 

To be honest, Jackson is a little confused. Derek was ranting about showing Jackson his place and yet he’s being so gentle. Jackson was expecting rough, unforgiving sex. He was expecting bruises and soreness. And the thing is he’d be into that. 

Soft grunts and moans are coming from Derek and every noise goes straight to Jackson’s dick. He squeezes his fists in the sheets and clenches his jaw. He fucking knows what Derek is doing. And Jackson won’t fucking give in. He’s not a little bitch like Lahey or Stilinski. 

Jackson glances up at the thought of them and his eyes go wide at the sight. Lahey has his head thrown back, exposing the long line of his neck. Stilinski has his face against the other side of Lahey’s neck and looks to be going to town. They both have their jeans shoved down toward their knees, hands wrapped around the other’s cock. Their pace almost mirrors Derek’s. Now that he’s paying attention Jackson hears the little sounds coming out of Lahey’s mouth. Little whimpers as Stilinski does whatever he’s doing to his neck. 

Their touches are so tender. Jackson can’t handle all of this at once. The sight of Stilinski and Lahey with their hands around each other’s dicks and the feeling of Derek gently thrusting in and out of him is driving Jackson crazy. 

He buries his face in Derek’s blankets again, trying to get an ounce of control back. But it’s slipping out of his reach. He grunts into the blankets, wanting, needing more. 

Derek once again has his lips right against Jackson’s ear as he whispers, “Come on, Jackson. Use your words. What do you want?” Jackson almost wants to jab one of his elbows into Derek’s side but another part of him almost yells at the though.

He almost begs, he just barely keeping the words from slipping past his lips. His whole body itches to submit to Derek, to give him want he wants, to beg and plead. Jackson lifts his head but is only confronted by the sight of Stilinski and Lahey with their lips connected, kisses sloppy and desperate. He grunts again, not being able to hold back the sound. 

Derek starts pulling away, his lips brushing against Jackson’s neck. Then, right before he fully pulls back, Derek scrapes his top teeth against the back of Jackson’s neck.

Jackson can’t help himself, he whines at the sensation. He pushes back against Derek who growls digging his fingers into Jackson’s hips. But now that the’s started he can’t stop. He  _ needs more. _ Why doesn’t Derek understand that?

But then Derek slides his right hand up from Jackson’s hip to his side, where he bit him. The feeling of Derek’s large, warm hand over the top of the place where he bit Jackson, makes all control he had left vanish in an instant. He drops his head back against the bed, turned to the side, panting. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

Derek rakes barely-there claws over the sensitive skin at Jackson’s side, “What was that?” Jackson whines, squeezing his eyes closed, trying to push back. “What did you say?” Derek growls. 

“Please,” Jackson huffs, “please.” 

“Oh, you know I need more than that, beta.” Derek’s hands are suddenly everywhere, fingers digging into sensitive flesh at Jackson’s sides, gripping the back of his neck, raking down his back. 

“Please, Alpha!” Jackson shouts, his need overcoming his pride. 

“Yes, beta,” Derek growls back. His left hand goes to Jackson’s hip, his right hand grips Jackson’s hair, yanking him up. Jackson scrabbles for a moment before he finds his balance on his hands. Derek barely gives him half of a second to breathe before his hips slam forward and he starts up the punishing pace Jackson had been expecting from the beginning. With Derek’s hand in his hair, forcing his head up, Jackson is at eye level with Stilinski and Lahey who are both staring at him. Their pace has also picked up. 

Jackson can’t hold back anything, little moans spilling out of him with each thrust of Derek’s hips. Derek is grunting, little sounds punctuating each thrust. Jackson teeters on the edge of pain and pleasure and he’s dizzy with it. He loses himself in Derek’s rhythm, not even thinking about his pride or the fact that Stilinski and Lahey are still watching him with wide eyes. 

Jackson only thinks of his Alpha, only has the capacity for pleasing his Alpha. 

His moans have turned into a whimpering repetition of, “Yes, yes, yes!” Derek lets go of Jackson’s hip and slides that hand around Jackson to fist his dick, pulling him closer and closer to orgasm. 

He can only manage, “Gonna-” before he’s spilling over his Alpha’s hand with a whine, screwing his eyes shut, and throwing his head back. Derek releases Jackson’s hair and pushes down between Jackson’s shoulder blades. He’s completely pliant under his Alpha’s hand, letting himself be shoved into the matters. Derek picks up his pace, going impossibly faster, grunting with the effort. 

With a moan and a final jerk, Derek is coming. 

Jackson isn’t proud of what happens next. 

Derek pulls out of him and Jackson whines, “Alpha,” quite loudly. Derek just shushes him and Jackson lays there on Derek’s bed trying to catch his breath, feeling like a painted whore. But then Derek is back with those hands of his and a warm washcloth, wiping up the mess. 

Later, Jackson wouldn’t admit to anything. He wouldn’t admit to the best sex of his life. He wouldn’t admit to calling Derek ‘Alpha.’ He wouldn’t admit to falling asleep in Derek’s bed. 

But he starts paying more attention at pack meetings. He starts showing up at other pack gatherings. No one says anything but Stilinski and Lahey always have smirks on their faces. 

Jackson still wouldn’t admit to any of it.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on Tumblr [@ira-fae](https://ira-fae.tumblr.com/)


End file.
